Smoke on the Water
by WildChildALR
Summary: Role Reversal Fic. Katniss won the 65th Hunger Games at the age of 14. At 23, she must aide Haymitch in preparing the newest round of tributes. At first it seems like a typical year, being haunted by the past in the faces of the tributes she will inevitably send to the slaughter. But then she meets District 4 tribute, 18 year old Finnick and the spark of rebellion will relight.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: After seeing Mockingjay pt 2 I had a thought for this Plotbunny and it wouldn't leave me alone. I've loved Finnick since Catching Fire and shipped him with Katniss since seeing that movie. I've only read the first book so I'm sure there will be inaccuracies but hopefully you still enjoy this.**

I own nothing.

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Everyone has nightmares, sometimes people have them more often then others. It's not usually a big deal. They wake up, shake off that fear, that helplessness and can usually fall back to sleep. But not me. I close my eyes and every night it's the same horrific visions over and over. And I know I'm dreaming but that knowledge does me no good because I also know these images will refuse to release me until they have finished their grizzly play, until I am reduced to a sobbing broken shell with a scream crawling at my throat begging to be released as a confirmation of my weakness.

 _I see Rue, her small body lifeless at my feet, her warm eyes now cold and unblinking. Then suddenly I'm face to face with Peeta, the both of us holding a handful of Nightlock berries to our lips. We stand so close I can see my reflection in the sky blue of his eyes. His eyes hold no hesitation, no doubt and that makes our bluff, our daring defiance stab so much deeper into my pounding heart. But then it's Peeta who gets stabbed in the heart. Cato, who we had assumed dead had found the strength to pull himself upright and stab Peeta in the back with his sword. Watching them sink to the ground I let out a shriek of disparity and rage grabbing one of my arrows, I stab Cato's already lifeless body until the shaft of my arrow snaps in half in my hand, slicing my palm open._

I would later be told I stabbed him almost 20 times but it matters little at 3:00 am when I'm covered in cold sweat and tangled in my sheets so tight they're like a vice. Knowing there's no hope of falling back to sleep I quietly slip from my bed and creep across the hall to my sister's room and peek in to gaze at her sleeping form. Prim is 21 now, and so incredibly beautiful both inside and out it hurts to look at her sometimes, to see that kind of compassion and devotion she shares with everyone so easily. Tiptoeing down the hall further I come to the bathroom and flick on the light.

I use the toilet and wash my hands quickly, the knobs letting out a soft squeal of protest as I turn them. Catching sight of my reflection in the mirror I take a moment to catalog what is presented. Plain grey eyes, no, according to gossip and celebrity magazines in the Capital they vibrant silver. Ordinary plain brown hair, but again the Capital calls it ebony, some sort of dark, incredibly rare and expensive wood. A round, "cherub" face with "full pouty" lips are also reflected in the dim light. I notice, with a small bit of twisted satisfaction that there are dark colored bags under my eyes. No doubt Effie will have plenty to say about them when she arrives in a few hours. But thoughts of Effie inevitably lead to thoughts of the Capital so I quickly turn off the light and head back to my room. Pulling on warm clothes and slipping on my father's hunting jacket I soon make my way into the woods, my bow in hand.

The forest is quiet, I pick my way through the sparse undergrowth and sit under the protective overhang of a tree to wait for sunrise. Eventually the sky lightens enough that I can see the surrounding trees and shrubs, and it doesn't take long for the chatter of birds and squirrels to break the stillness. Soon after a chubby young groundhog wonders into my path, I shoot it through the eye to not waist any meat.

While I'm gutting the large rodent I hear footsteps in the dry leaves behind me. I recognize them as Gale's as they purposely become heavier as he gets closer and closer. It took him six months and nearly three arrows pointed at his heart for him to pick up the habit.

"Your up early. Couldn't sleep?" He asks coming to stand just beyond my shoulder.

Not looking up I replied, "The Reaping is today. By tomorrow I'll be in the Capital with the Tributes. I figured one more outing would do me good."

I can hear the clench in his jaw. "Why do they keep dragging you back? They've already got Haymitch."

The unspoken accusation that I willingly go back year after year hangs heavy between us. Even after 9 years Gale still doesn't get that there are no Victors in The Games, only survivors. And most days I'm barely surviving. Knowing that by sunset today there will be two new victims sent to the arena from my district, kids dependent on me to prepare them, it fills me with overwhelming and sickening dread. Standing up I wipe my hands on my pants, the red of the groundhog's blood staining the dark blue. Brushing past him I remain silent but he grabs my arm and spins me back around.

"Please Catnip, don't go this year." He pleads.

Sighing through my nose I look into his eyes. He's so much taller than me, and what many women in the Capital would call "ruggedly handsome " with his chiseled features and broad strong build. But I've never had any feelings for Gale beyond friendship. Two years after The Games he tried to express his feelings but I tried to explain the girl he loved no longer existed.

"I have to Gale." I say, "If I don't they'll go after Prim and you."

"Then let's run away." He implores.

Shaking my head I laugh bitterly. "And go where? Beyond the fence? There is no beyond the fence it was just a story we told ourselves as children. And even if we do disappear what about everyone else in 12? The same thing that happened to 13 will happen here. Don't you get it? The Capital will never be done with me! Every year for the rest of my life I will have to relive The Games, relive Peeta's death."

Feelings tears prickling the back of my eyes I quickly turn back and race home, my quarry for the day clutched tight in my hand by the tail.

Sprinting through the entrance of The Victor's Village I make my way around the back of the house and enter through the kitchen. Coming into the room I see Prim drying herbs she and my mother will use to treat the sick. I also spy Haymitch Abernathy, my former mentor, a glass of amber liquid in front of him on the table.

"And so The Capital Darling graces us with her presence. Where have you been sweetheart? Effie's all in a tizzy cuz your nowhere to be found. Gotta pack and prepare for The Reaping. Gotta look our best right?" He gestures to his disheveled three piece suit.

I roll my eyes at his gruffness. Haymitch may be crass and unpleasant, but once he started to care, he cared deeply. After winning my Games at 14 I could barely deal with day to day life. Then at 16 President Snow decided that people paying for my company in public, at parties and functions wasn't enough and he began to sell the "pleasure" of my private company. Disgusted, betrayed and helpless I turned to Haymitch for a way out. And he introduced me to drinking. And I took to it, perhaps a little too well. Every day I would wake up and chase that numbness down a bottle hoping to find absolution at the bottom.

It wasn't until I woke up one morning to Prim violently shaking me awake, tears staining her cheeks and eyes puffy and swollen that I stopped. I had passed out on the living room floor and cut myself on the bottle that I smashed. Prim had found me in a puddle of blood booze and broken glass and had assumed the worst. I vowed to never put my sister through that pain again and hadn't touched a drop since.

Then as if on cue Effie stepped into the kitchen, my prep team hot on her lime green heels. She took one look at my appearance and let out a short exasperated sigh.

"Katniss dear, why must you vex me so? We have exactly three hours until The Reaping and you sweet child are not fit to be seen."

"Isn't that what your here for gorgeous, to make us fit for polite society?" Haymitch questioned looking up from his now empty glass.

Effie doesn't reply but she gives him a fierce, exasperated glare. Turning her attention back to me she says, "Come, come we must prepare you. Hair, nails and makeup. Then Cinna sent along a whole new wardrobe for this season." She gushed.

At the mention of the designer's name I couldn't help but smile. Cinna had always been so kind and generous, never expecting anything in return, a quality in short supply within the Capital.

Once upstairs I was primped within an inch of my life. I was scrubbed head to toe in a vanilla scented body scrub, my nails cleaned, filed and painted white along the tips. I was dressed in a hunter green cardigan sweater with a brown leather belt about my middle. This I wore over a cream colored v-neck shirt with form fitting navy jeans tucked into calf high brown swede boots. My hair was plaited into the signature side-braide I was known for. As a finishing touch Effie herself pinned my mockingjay pin under my sweater just above my heart.

Declaring me presentable Effie led the way out of my house and to the town square. As we made our way though Effie's carefully constructed mask of excitement slipped and her eyes began to water, no doubt thinking of the possible fates of those about to be Reaped. Peeta and I were Effie's first tributes and getting to know and love us like she had, had shattered her perceptions of The Games she had formed growing up in the Capital. After I had won my games and became a Mentor at 18 many expected Haymish and I to create a dynasty of sorts full of District 12 Victors. We hadn't had one tribute make it to the final 5 yet.

Taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze before letting go, Effie grants me a tiny appreciative smile. And then her mask is back in place as we step onto the stage set up. I stand to one side wondering once more why I'm the one who has to stand here and watch while Haymitch waits on the train. But then Effie begins her speech and The Reaping for the 74th annual Hunger Games begins.

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Since I lowered Katniss' age to 14 during her games but wanted to keep the aspect of volunteering for Prim I kept her age at the time to 12, so they're closer in age. I upped Finnick's age to make him closer to Katniss' "current"age of 23

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	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing

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I sit on the train bound for the Capital, staring out the windows as the amber fields of 11 whiz past. I feel the eyes of this year's Tributes on me, the weight of their stares as heavy as their deaths will be on my heart. I finally turn my gaze to them and take my first good look.

The girl's name is Calluna Till, from her long blonde hair and blue eyes it's clear she's from the Merchant side of 12. At the Reaping she didn't cry or resist, she had meekly strode onto the stage, excepting her fate.

The boy is Koren Elder, due to his dark hair and grey eyes it's easy to see he's from the Seams. He's tall and muscular and has coal dust on his shoes. I silently wonder if he's started working in the mines yet.

The ominous silence of the car is interrupted by Effie entering, a big smile on her face brighter than her lime green blazer and skirt, both covered in rhinestones of various sizes.

"Well isn't this marvelous." She gushes looking from the Tributes to me. "We're all going to have such great times once we reach the Capital, and perhaps become life long friends."

"Yeah until one or both of them get killed." Haymitch chimes in joining us as well.

Ignoring him Effie diffuses, "As you know I am Effie Trinket, this…unpleasant…man is Haymish Abernathy, and of course you know the Girl on Fire Katniss Everdeen. Why don't you tell us a little about yourselves?"

Koren and Calluna look at each other briefly, their expressions slightly doubtful that Effie actually wants to know anything about them. But then Koren speaks up, his voice surprisingly soft and melodic for his size. "My name is Koren, I'm 17 and I live in The Seam with my Grandmother. My father died in the mines after a gas leak and my mother died giving birth to my sister who died as well. I started working in the mines a few months ago, its hard sometimes, but there's not much else."

"Cheery." Haymitch deadpans as he pours himself a drink. The liquid is clear this time so its probably vodka.

"And you dear?" Effie coaxed Calluna trying to overshadow Haymish's insensitivity.

"I'm Calluna and I'm 16, my father is a butcher. I have 5 younger sisters and a new baby brother born this summer." She shares quietly her fingers fiddling with the hem of her simple blue dress.

The silence that develops after is pressing until Haymitch speaks up, "Well now your Tributes from District 12. Congratulations should be in order but we all know that's all a bunch of bull shit. These Games, as they call them are anything but child's play. They even built a new arena, just for you." He laughed mirthlessly taking a healthy drink. "Even if you survive, if you come out, and I do mean if, you'll never be the same."

"Isn't that your job? To prepare us?" Koren challenges.

The three of us freeze, his words echoing Peeta's from oh so long ago. I somehow manage to find my voice first, "We'll do the best we can. But the majority of it is on you. We have days to turn you into warriors while the Tributes from the upper districts have trained for years. So if there's anything your especially good at, anything at all that could tip the odds in your favor, tell us now so we can know how to play to your strengths."

The pair were silent as they contemplated and once again Koren answered first. "I'm strong. Once there was a cave in and I went into the mine to help. I moved a stone that three men couldn't budge, opening a hole to get the trapped men out."

I wasn't sure about Haymitch but I was impressed. I had heard about the cave in, but I had been in the Capital fulfilling my "duties" as a Victor. That had been two years ago, so Koren had only been 15 at the time. Who knew what he was capable of now.

"I can also… well I guess you can say I see very well in the dark. My grandmother is too frail to do much work, though she'll do some mending and take in laundry from time to time. But we rarely have money for candles and the mines are rarely well lit, so I got used to seeing in little to no light."

"Impressive." Was all Haymitch had to offer.

As our eyes turned to her Calluna started fiddling with her clothes once more. Speaking just above a whisper she revealed, "My father would make me help with killing and cutting up animals for his shop since I was the eldest. I learned about veins and organs from the process, where to cut, how deep. I had wanted to use that knowledge to help animals, make them healthier to provide better meat, but my father said I was destroying profits cutting up meat just to see what it was made up of."

I feel myself frown at the harshness displayed by the butcher for his eldest daughter's interests, but my musings were interrupted by Haymitch contemplating, "So we have super human-strength and night-vision in one, and skill with a knife and knowledge of anatomy in another." He shrugs noncommittaly. "We've been given less."

I'm about to tell him those skills may not transfer into the Games exactly but I'm interrupted by Effie exclaiming, "It's time for the televising of the Tributes!

She turns on the TV and instantly Caesar's face is grinning brightly on the screen. "Good evening Panem! And welcome to the Reaping for the 74th annual Hunger Games. Tonight we will give you your first look at this years Tributes. So without further adieu, let's get to it!"

Clips then start rolling of the taped Reapings. From District 1 there's Teak the male Tribute and Patchouli the female. Drax is the male from 2 and he's HUGE, dwarfing Koren's 6 foot frame with pure bulging muscle. At 18 he may even give Brutus a run for his money. I miss the names of the female and the 3rd District's Tributes due Haymitch clanking ice for his newest drink. When the clips come to 4 they show a sobbing redheaded girl named Annie being escorted to the stage by Peacekeepers. I see Mags reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder when she reaches her destination. I feel a weighty sadness in my chest looking at Mags. She's been doing this longer than any of us other Mentors, and yet she somehow finds the strength to stand on that stage every year.

After my own Games Mags became like a second mother, understanding and comforting me in ways few others were able. Her stroke a few years ago had hit all of us Victors pretty hard, but she had recovered and was much the same, except for her lack of intelligible speech. I was about to excuse myself and try to take a nap before reaching the Capital but then as the name of a male Tribute was being announced a voice called out,

" I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute."

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AN: And so things are about to get interesting ; ) Hoping everyone is enjoying this so far, reviews are greatly appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

I own nothing

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A murmur went through the crowd as heads turned to see who had spoken, a few seconds later a section of the crowd started to part and onto the stage stepped a tall boy with reddish blonde hair. As he turned around I was struck by how handsome he was. He had eyes of glittering green, high cheekbones with a chiseled jaw and an attractive pair of lips that were currently twisted into a smirk at seeing the crowd's reaction. The officials around the stage and a few audience members didn't look to happy that this guy had volunteered.

"Finnick Odair." The announcer proclaimed, his eyes flashing with annoyance, "Your male Tribute."

I had remembered hearing about Finnick from Mags. She said he was a promising pupil at the academy 4 had for Tributes, but he could often be undisciplined, reckless even. Maybe we could use it to our advantage.

After the stir in District 4's Reaping 5 and 6 flew past. Around 8 I excused myself and was able to manage some dreamless sleep before we arrived at the Capital.

When we reached the Training Center Koren and Calluna looked all around them in wonder, their jaws hanging freely open at the size and splendor around them.

"This way, this way." Effie directs heading towards the glass elevators.

Pushing the button for 12 the doors quickly close and we start to rise. The view through the glass of the elevator of the Capital is breathtaking, or it would be if you didn't know about all the lies and shadowy dealings going on in every corner. When we arrive on our floor Effie shows Koren and Calluna which rooms will be there's and gives them their keys as well as strict instructions we all need to be ready in an hour to meet the Prep Teams to be prepared for the Tributes Parade.

Excepting my key from Effie I make my way to my own room and after throwing myself onto the bed I let out a strangled groan as tears fill my eyes. I place a hand over my mouth to muffle a sob as my body convulses with the silent wracking of pain. I allow myself one moment of weakness before pulling myself back together and dragging my body to the bathroom. I remove the make-up that was applied earlier knowing it would be redone to match whatever creation Cinna would dress me in. I also changed into a plain button down black shirt with my current jeans and a pair of black flats.

Exiting into the hallway I meet with Effie and the others as we make our way to the Prep Stations. Calluna and Koren are immediately subjected to manicures, pedicures, waxing, buffing and polishing. Once that's over they go to hair and make-up.

Calluna's golden locks are gently curled, silvery white eye shadow and glitter along with black rhinestones are applied around her eyes. Koren's hair is liberally infused with hair gel to tame it into a straight spike down the middle of his head. The barest hint of silvery white eyeliner rims his eyes causing the grey color to become hypnotic.

Finally Cinna revealed his creations for this year. A collective gasp goes out as we take in the outfits. Both are made of shimmering white iridescent material. Calluna's dress shows of an empire waistline with off the shoulder cap sleeves and a full multi-tiered skirt with delicate white netted material trimmed with the iridescent. There are also multitudes of white crystals scattered upon the skirt that catch the light. Koren's suit is simple yet striking. The coat and shirt is made of the iridescence but the 12 buttons on the coat are made of shiny black stones that look like tiny lumps of coal.

Still in awe I remark, "Cinna when are you just going to stick to coal mining?"

For a moment I regret my words hoping he doesn't take offense and stop working with District 12. He always is able to make even the most terrified Tributes at ease, if only for a moment by giving this small kindness of making them feel incredible in his clothes.

But Cinna merely laughs at gives me a sly look. "Given enough pressure," He says, "a simple lump of coal is transformed into a beautiful, nearly indestructible diamond."

Smiling I nod, but then Cinna takes my hands and says, "Come, time to get you ready."

Though grateful I remind him, "I'm no longer a Tribute, you don't have to-"

"I don't. But I want to." He cuts off. "Whether or not your in the Games or Mentoring, I'll always bet on you, Girl on Fire."

I give him an appreciative smile as he leads me off to be transformed. A short time later I am released wearing a stunning sleek black dress with a plunging cutout neck line, beaded detailing covers the dress and there's a slit in the side of the skirt that nearly reaches my hip. Around my shoulders though is the most impressive part of the dress, for it appears that a pair of birds have draped their wings upon me, their feathers black but for the tips that glowed red and orange like flames. My hair was left to hang down my back but had complicated braids running through out the long dark locks.

Finally the command for the parade to begin was given and for the first time Calluna gave a small glimmer of a smile as Cinna and Koren helped her into the chariot. Before the horses started to move Cinna instructed, "Smile and wave, but keep it small, controlled." He demonstrated, his wave a more gentle rolling of his wrist than a wave of his hand. "Remember, your diamonds. You come from humble beginnings but now you out class them all."

With that the chariot started forward, both Tributes looking back briefly before making their way out onto the parade alley.

"Come, come. We don't want to miss the parade." Effie hurried us along.

Haymitch grumbled a bit but let her herd us to the elevator that would take us up to the Mentor's box. Once we reached the top and the doors opened Haymitch made a beeline for the open bar at the back of the suite.

"Hey Brainless, saved you a seat."

I look over and see Johanna wave me over from where she's seated in the second row of chairs set up to watch the spectacle. I contemplate turning her down but then I see Mags in the next chair over and Seeder on the other side of her. I plaster a smile on my face as I walk up to them.

"Nice dress." Johanna comments. "Makes me want to saw my stylist's hands off."

I take my first good look at her outfit and while not terrible, her stylist always takes the lumber industry of District 7 literally in what she creates. Today Johanna's dress is made of fabric leaves. They start off as vibrant green at the bottom, then as they reach further up the skirt they turn emerald. Around her waist they become yellow and orange until finally the leaves turn brown at the bust line with a few brown leaves painted on her collarbone and shoulder twirling in an imaginary wind.

Rarely having patience with Johanna's twisted humor I remark, "Maybe if you stopped threatening to maim and or kill her she'd dress you better."

Johanna just laughs at my rudeness though as I sit down. "Relax Fire Girl. She knows they're just empty threats. Mostly."

Turning away I smile genuinely at Mags. She smiles back and takes one of my hands in both of hers, her arthritis twisting her fingers slightly. She pats my hand fondly.

"I've missed you too Mags." I say. "How have you been? I watched the Reaping. How's Annie doing?"

Mags' smile falls slightly and she removes one of her hands to trail along my cheek, as if wiping away a tear.

"That bad huh? Do you think she has a chance?"

The kind old eyes looking up at me cloud over slightly, and Mags turns back to the parade, giving me my answer. About that time District 4's chariot passes our box and I get a good view of more than I bargained for of Finnick Odair. He is clothed, if you would call it that in merely a large fishing net tied around his hips. Annie is dressed slightly more conservatively in a strapless aqua colored dress stitched in a way that caused the fabric to look like scales. The skirt hugged her hips and thighs tightly only to flair out bellow her knees. Draped over her fiery hair was a fish net veil and both she and her counterpart wore shell necklaces.

It was clear from the cheers of the crowd the choice their stylist made of accenting their looks paid off. If only they knew the dangers of that type of admiration.

The parade continues on until finally District 12 comes into view, and the crowd goes mad seeing Cinna's designs, which now in the lower lighting of the torches breaking up the darkness, shine and glitter.

"Diamonds." Seeder catches on, her dark eyes wrinkling slightly with mirth. "Cinna continues to out do himself."

Behind us Beetee and Wireress start to explain the properties of the fabric's luminosity but I start to tune them out as President Snow takes his place at the podium and begins his speech. I don't hear the words, there is just a loud painful rushing in my ears like radio static. But the meaning is always the same. We continue to pay for mistakes made nearly a century ago and will continue to pay for the unforeseeable future with the blood of children, and they call it sport.

And with that the parade is over. But we Mentors know our night is not finished, for barely 10 minutes later Caesar enters the box with a full camera crew and starts setting up. As the crew fiddles with lighting and camera angles we get organized by District starting with Gloss and Cashmere from 1 in the front row furthest to the left to Haymitch and I in the very back.

The year after I won the 65th Games President Snow thought it would be a grand idea if Mentors would give interviews on their Tributes before, during and after training just before they entered the arena. That way the audience and Sponsors could better select their favorites to support based on their progress. The experience always makes me feel like a skummy sales person, talking up the latest wares up for purchase instead of talking about teenagers.

As always Gloss and Cashmere boast about their Tributes. How they were trained from a young age for this and how much glory they would bring their District and the Capital. 2 and 3 say much the same. When they reach Mags though things get tough for Caesar who asks which Tribute she believes will win. Mags shrugs and places a hand over her heart signifying she preferred not to choose for she cares about both of them. He seems to get the concept but hurries through to the next District. When he finishes with Chaff and Seeder it's Haymitch's and my turn. I take a deep breath as Haymitch helps me stand and navigate my way down the stairs to the interview chairs in the high stiletto heels I'm wearing.

Once we're seated Caesar greets us, "Katniss, Haymitch how are you this evening?"

Knowing Haymitch will have something smart and likely vulgar to say I speak up, "We're so happy to be back in the Capital." I give him my brightest and fakest smile. "We've missed everyone so much especially you Caesar."

"And we've missed you Katniss." He pouts. "You just never seem to spend as much time in the Capital anymore."

I can't tell him that's because I want to throw myself off the roof of the Training Center every time I'm forced to return. So instead I pacify, "I wish I could spend more time here with all my Capital friends and those who have become like family, but I made a promise to myself when I won that I would use my status as a Victor to better my District. It's what Peeta would have wanted."

Caesar's face softens as he agrees, "And what great work you've done so far Katniss. Pushing for tougher mining safety regulations, collecting clothing donations, using your own funds to purchase Tessara. Peeta would be proud."

"Thank you Caesar, that means so much coming from you. You know how much he loved talking with you."

He nods before asking, "Katniss, it's been 9 years since Peeta's death. Is there anyone special out there for you right now? You've been seen with multiple suitors in the past, have they come close to what you and Peeta had?"

I resist the urge to laugh in his face. Those "suitors" were actually clients who, in order to make themselves feel better, would sometimes take me out to dinner, a show, museum or something before getting to what they were actually paying for.

But I know the answer expected of me, so I allow tears to well up in my eyes and slowly run down my cheeks. "No one will ever replace Peeta in my heart. Perhaps that's why none of the others worked out. They couldn't measure up to how perfect he was, how perfect we were for each other."

As Caesar reaches across and squeezes my hands comfortingly I wonder if I will have to play the broken-hearted spinster forever. Given that's the image the Capital loves, it seems likely.

"But we aren't here to just talk about me." I turn the conversation, delicately wiping my eyes. "We're here to talk about Koren and Calluna. Haymitch too."

"Yes we are." He agrees regaining his trademark smile. "Haymitch, you've been a bit of a recluse since you won your Games. What have you been doing these past years? Besides Mentoring."

"I raise geese." He deadpans from his slightly reclined position in his chair.

Thankful he at least didn't say he drinks himself stupid too I speak up, "Caesar I think your really going to be surprised by our Tributes this year. They have great potential, we can't reveal too much just yet, but Haymitch and I have great confidence they will do well."

I see one of the crew give a signal to wrap things up because time's running out so Caesar concludes, "Well there you have it Panem. 12 Disticts, 24 Tributes. Who will win and be catapulted into eternal victory and glory and who will fall in the Arena? Stay tuned to find out."

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The treck back to the Training Center is long and tedious in my outfit. I'm half asleep by the time we reach the elevator and I lean heavily on Haymitch until we reach my door.

"Here you go Sweetheart." He speaks lowly. Everyone else is probably sleeping. "Get some rest."

"Will I ever stop seeing his face when I close my eyes?" I ask, my exhaustion loosing my tongue. "Will the pain ever go away? Sometimes it fades, the memories of the Games and I can better remember the times before. Getting to really know him during training, the feel of his arms around me as he chased away my nightmares. The way he always smelled like freshly baked bread. But then there's times when all I can see is his face when he died, his chest covered in blood." I start to cry in earnest. "Haymitch why do people always say blood is red? It's not. It's so much darker when there's that much. When someone's dying."

He holds me close and tight. I can hear the thickness of tears in his voice when he says. "There was one thing Flickerman got right tonight. Peeta would be so proud of you for what you've done, what you've endured. He would want you to forgive yourself."

With that he releases me slightly and presses a fatherly kiss into my hair before taking my key, unlocking the door and ushering me inside before closing the door behind me. Taking a calming breath I kick off my shoes and hang the dress on the back of my door. I shower quickly, scrubbing off the layers of cosmetics caked onto my face. Pulling on a T-shirt and shorts I lay on top of the bed.

I must have dozed off because when I open my eyes again it's 3am. My body is buzzing with exhausted energy so I grab my key card and head to The Oasis.

The Oasis is a Tribute, Peacekeeper, Hunger Games free section of the Training Center located between the basement Training Facility and the Victor's Museum on the ground floor. Only Mentors have access through a key card swiped in the elevator. The floor is made up of a gym, spa, meditation room, fully stocked bar, and an enormous pool. I've found swimming relaxing in the past so I make my way through the silent rooms to the pool. Placing my towel on one of the chairs I strip down to my bra and underwear. No one's here to remark on my lack of swim wear, and it's not like nearly all of the others have never skinny dipped in the same pool before.

But as I straighten up to make my way to the stairs, I notice something. Or rather someone. There is the drowned body of a man floating face down in the center of the pool.

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 **Read and Review**

Wow this chapter got a little long. Hopefully no one is frustrated by the lack of Finnick so far, but if you are have no fear, he will be prevalent in the next chapter.

Katniss' dress is the one she wore to Snow's mansion during the Victory Tour. I figured since in this story she was only 14 Cenna might have designed something more along the lines of her "little girl dresses".

I hope I did it justice with the description cuz I LOVE that one. I'm currently brainstorming the type of Arena to put the Tributes in so suggestions are great! Also alliances; I could use some ideas on names for District 7 and 11 Tributes or which other Districts to include.


	4. Chapter 4

I own nothing.

* * *

Without a second thought I dive into the pool, the chlorine stinging my eyes as I make my way to the floating body. Grabbing hold I turn the figure over and start to swim to the edge of the pool. I don't make it very far before,

"What the hell?"

Startled a let go and swim back a few feet, getting a better look I realize just who this "drowned body" was.

"What are you doing here Finnick?!" I demand, determined to look at his face, not his chiseled chest or muscular arms. "This area is for Mentors only."

Pushing his hair out of his eyes he merely smirks slightly and shrugs. "I couldn't sleep. Mags let me use her key card. Being in the water relaxes me."

Rolling my eyes I scoff, "Pretending to be drowned is your idea of relaxing?"

"Careful Kitty-Kat, it sounds like you might actually care." He baits me.

Giving him a hard glare I snap, "Don't call me that. Ever."

"What about-"

"No." I cut him off swimming towards the stairs knowing my plans for a quiet swim were done for.

"Kitten it is then." He chuckles.

Whirling around in the water I stare in disbelief at his cheerfully smug face.

"What?" He asks innocently. "I was going to ask if you preferred Kit-Kat, but Kitten was my next choice."

Speechless I started stupidly for another moment. But then I managed to regain my composure and shook my head at his tediousness and turned away once more.

"Poor Mags having to put up with you." I mutter reaching the stairs. "Maybe I should have let you drown."

"Oh trust me Mags is already miffed at me as it is. If I got myself killed before the Games even started I'd never hear the end of it."

"I'm sure her annoyance is warranted. I've been in your presence two minutes and I'm more than miffed." I retort pausing, a hand on the railing.

"We'll this is more for the fact that I wasn't even supposed to volunteer this year."

Surprised I turn and watch as he swims closer.

"Yeah, this year Percy was the one who was expected to enter the Games. We're evenly matched in pretty much all areas of training but it was decided he would volunteer due to the fact I don't-"

"Take orders well?" I finish gifting him with a smirk of my own.

Finnick has the decency to look sheepish as he nods. "I guess it's something we have in common."

I'm about to cut in that he doesn't know anything about me but he continues, "Percy would have done well. We're the same age and he's a great guy but there's just one thing he had going against him." He pauses, a sad yet determined look filling his eyes. "He wouldn't have protected Annie. Not like I plan to."

"You love her." I surmise, a tight uncomfortable feeling twisting around my heart and in my stomach. "That's why you volunteered."

Nodding he explains, "Annie and I grew up two houses down from one another. We stayed friends all through my time at the Academy. There isn't much I wouldn't do for her."

I smile coldly and assure, "The Capital loves a good star-crossed lovers story. Trust me, I'm still living out mine."

At that he looks confused but then clarifies, "I love Annie yes, but I'm not in love with her. We tried dating a year ago but it was weird. So we went back to being friends."

The twisting feeling loosens somewhat when he says that. Confused and slightly unnerved by this realization I turn back and ascend the stairs. As I reach the top Finnick calls out,

"Nice underwear, how'd you know green is my favorite color?"

Looking down I suddenly remember I'm not wearing a bathing suit, but a bra and underwear instead. And they don't even match. The bra is a deep plumb color while the bikini underwear are soft mint green. It's definitely not my sexiest or most revealing pieces but mortification stains my cheeks in a heated blush.

Yet again my feelings surprise me. At 16 I was turned into the Capital's sex symbol, the ideal woman. Smart, deadly, beautiful and full of fire, the whole package they'd said. For years I've done celebrity endorsement campaigns for a company that makes very expensive, very revealing lingerie called Lanoria's Secret. Billboards stories high of me wearing the items that in nearly all the Districts would be thought of as scandalous were everywhere. Hundreds of people saw them every day. And a number of men as well as a few women had seen me in less.

And yet the weight of Finnick's stare wasn't as pressing as the lustful looks I received from countless others. Yes, there was lust in his eyes, coloring his emerald eyes even darker, but there was admiration as well, along with something else I couldn't quite name.

Feeling my blush creep down my neck I quickly turn and hastily grab my clothes before rushing out of the pool room and back to the safety of the elevator.

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The next morning dawned bright and sunny as I met with Effie, Haymitch, Koren and Calluna at the breakfast table. Koren leaned over a plate piled high with bacon, sausage, toast and eggs while Calluna picked at a bowl of oatmeal and slices of apple.

"Thanks for joining us Sweetheart." Haymitch barks over his breakfast, a glass that smells alcoholic, but at least it's got orange juice in it too.

"Not everyone can be as joyful as you first thing in the morning." I tell him pouring myself a large mug of coffee and adding four sugars.

Effie cuts off whatever foul mouthed retort he had in store by exclaiming, "Now, now it's not the time for bickering. Today is a big, big day for our Tributes. First day of training, how exciting."She smiles widely.

Koren stops scarfing his food mid-bite and Calluna pauses forming her now cold oatmeal into a mountain in her bowl.

Sighing Haymitch takes a healthy drink before instructing, "Today will be the day all you Tributes will try to feel each other out, try to see who'll be tough to beat, and who will be easy pickings. Don't tip your hands on your talents just yet. Watch, listen and learn. The careers will be eager to show off, like Sweetheart said they've been training for this for years. But don't underestimate the survival stations. The knowledge of how to find food and water could save your life just as easily as knowing how to throw a knife."

Seeing the fear and uncertainty on their faces I try to help, "Districts 11 and 7 are typically more amicable to form an alliance with 12. Haymitch and I are in good standings with their Mentors and can help you try and decide who to trust and who to watch out for."

The pair of them nod, then push back from the table and return to their rooms to dress into their training uniforms. Meanwhile I grab a chocolate chip muffin and eat while getting ready myself. Today is the first day the Tributes start training, but it's also the day Haymitch and I start lining up potential Sponsors. I pick out a white dress with a pattern of dark grey birds on it. The Mockingjay symbol has been outlawed for years, but the images of these avians is just enough ascued that one could claim they could be any type of bird, or simply an imagined species. I decide to pair the dress with white heels and a short black leather blazer with oversized gold buttons on the lapels. I spend the day "visiting friends", many of them my own Sponsors from years ago. My time proves to be fruitful, for by the time I return to the Training Center I have a number of people promising support if either Tribute scores above an 8 in testing.

Happier than I've felt in weeks I return to District 12's floor just before Koren and Calluna. The pair of them are speaking excitedly with Effie, and though she is trying to seem engaged and upbeat, I can tell something is troubling her.

"Training is actually kinda fun." Koren admitted sitting down on the couch with a tired yet satisfied thump. "The Careers from 1,2, and 3 were kinda scary, but Finnick and Annie were both really cool and nice."

"Finnick?!" I parrot, concerned about what he might reveal about our interaction last night.

But Koren just continued on saying, "Yeah he showed me how to use a Trident. I just watched but it was so amazing watching him practice with it, like it was an extension of his body."

From her own seat on the giant couch Calluna chimed in, more animated then I'd ever seen,"And Annie showed me how to make lures and tie knots. Finnick tried to come over and give me extra pointers but-"

"She got so flustered she managed to tie her hands together." Koren laughed, his fellow Tribute blushing so hard she nearly turned purple.

"Just remember, these kids aren't your friends, they're your competition." Haymitch warned sitting down on the opposite side of the couch.

Speaking up I add, "An alliance with 4 wouldn't be a bad thing. What about 11 and 7 though?"

"Silica from 11 seems interesting. She was using some weapon called a sickle. District 7 seemed more interested in trying to set things on fire." Calluna reported, her coloring finally returning to normal.

Biting my lip I sigh through my nose as I process this information. I also wonder if Blight and Johanna know about the Pyro obsession of their Tributes. If they did, chances were Johanna would likely love to use one of them to burn down the President's Mansion during the Victory Tour should they win.

The pair then ask if they can leave to check out more of what the Capital has to offer. Effie informs them they aren't permitted to leave the Training Center. At seeing their disappointed Haymitch suggests ordering a ton of room service and binge watching trashy Capital TV. He suggests starting with a popular dating show he knows Effie loves.

As Koren and Calluna eagerly depart to their rooms to change Effie takes me by the arm, "Katniss dear," she whispers urgently, "I must speak to you at once. Privately." She looks towards the rooms where our Tributes had me to my room she closes the door and locks it for good measure.

"What's going on Effie?" I ask, uncertainty making my skin crawl.

Taking a deep breath Effie tries to fight back tears as she says, "Ambrose Wilkin has requested to see you."

My mouth opens in shock as the words sink in. Ambrose is one of my regular "clients". He's a narcissistic bigot who enjoys the jealous looks he receives when I'm seen on his arm. He also likes to think that he's the only one able to "tame my fire". When I began to be sold and passed around like property Snow had assured me that during the Hunger Games season, my main priority would be my Tributes and the Games. No clients, no "appointments".

Reading my thoughts Effie sobbed, "I tried to tell him you were unavailable, just as you've been every year at this time but he was insistent. He said he had been granted permission from President Snow himself. He threatened me, you and your sister. Oh Katniss, I'm so, so sorry. If I'd have known this was the life in store for you after the Games..."

Reaching out I embrace her tightly. I shush her tears as rage causes my hands to shake. How dare that bastard threaten people I care about. Just because he was rich and knew powerful people he thought he was above retribution. But I knew powerful people as well now, and one day soon that slimy pig would get what he deserves. But for now I have my pride to swallow once more as I shoo Effie out of my room so that I can prepare for my meeting with Ambrose.

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It's well past midnight when I return to the Training Center. My head is held high and my back straight as a post, but inside I'm a boiling mess of emotions.

It seems Ambrose had seen my interview with Caesar the night before and hadn't liked being told he couldn't compare to "a pathetic mongrel from the scummy coal pit that was District 12." Apparently Ambrose's fragile self esteem took a major hit at being unfavorably measured to a dead 14 year old boy.

Knowing Effie, and likely Haymitch were waiting up for me, I hit the button for the rooftop, not wanting to see anyone right now.

As the elevator rose I caught sight of my split lip and slight swelling on my right cheek in the glass' reflection. I manage a small, painful smirk. As soon as Effie sees the damage she is bound by her job as Escort to report the incident to Snow. While they are able to purchase us, clients are forbidden from leaving marks on Victors, especially where they can be publicly seen. Ambrose will likely face the full wrath of President Snow fairly shortly.

As the doors open I step out into the cool night. Walking to the railing I look down on the glittering city below. Due to a past Tribute trying to jump from up here a force-field surrounds the rooftop garden. Feeling my anger begin to boil over I remove my silver heels and throw them at the edge of the building. They hit the barrier and bounce back, but not before one of the shoe's heels snap off. Seeing the broken pieces a small victory feels won, and I want more.

Picking up one of the chairs placed about I heft it into the force-field as well. The furniture hits the fence with a satisfying electrical snap. Emboldened I let out a wordless cry of anger and frustration.

"The furniture choices aren't what I'd go with either but does that really warrant late night demolition?"

Spinning I spy Finnick leaning against the open elevator doors, his trademark smirk in place.

"Go away Finnick. I'm not in the mood." I snap running a hand angrily through my hair that had once been perfectly styled in loose curls, but was now tangled and knotted.

Eyes zeroing in on my face his smirk quickly disappears and is replaced by a hard frown. His eyes narrow as he gets closer and he slowly reaches out to touch my split lip, but holds back at the last second. As if he's concerned about scaring me.

"Who." He demands, his voice low and hard.

"No one you'd be able to take on." I tell him honestly, wrapping my arms around myself. Its windy on the rooftop and my dress is made of crinkled chiffon and is strapless with a sweetheart neckline and has a lace hemline. When Cinna had first shown me the dress I had loved the green color that reminded me of sea glass. But now I never wanted to wear this garment again.

Sighing he lowers his hand but I notice he has both hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are turning white.

Angrily he mutters, "Fame and glory is what the Capital sells to Victors. I bet more people would be even more disgusted with the Games if they knew the truth."

Started I feel the blood drain from my face. "What did you say?" I croak.

Looking down at me he sighs and says, "It's a well known secret in the upper Districts that Victors become very desired by those in the Capital. But few know that they actually become prostitutes for the extremely wealthy. Details like that hurt the image the Capital likes to portray of their Games and Victors. The further down the Districts you go the less public knowledge there is of what actually being a Victor means. The Capital's censorship ensures that."

I feel like I'm going to be sick. This whole time I've felt dirty and degraded for going along with Snow's schemes on using me to keep others in line and entertained, and yet when Gloss, Cashmere, Brutus, Enobaria and all the others volunteered, they had at least an idea of what was in store. Many of the other Victors after the first few years had fewer and fewer "admirers" but I for some reason had held the Capital's interest.

"Don't." Finnick urges, breaking through my swirling thoughts fueled with anger and mistrust.

"Don't what?" I demand.

"Hate them." He replies gently. "Most of them were raised to think it was their honor, their duty to serve the Capital. I'm sure they don't feel the same anymore though. Even the Escorts no longer truly see the Games the same after a Reaping or two."

I know he's making sense. I know from experience that Effie has begun to dread the Games and everything that goes with it. But still it feels like all of Panem has been having a great big laugh at my expense for allowing me to believe that I was singled out for this humiliation. That when Snow threatened my family it was simply for the stunt Peeta and I had tried to pull with the berries.

Rounding on Finnick I demand, "How do you know so much?"

"Mags practically raised me." He shrugs. "She wasn't a fan of censoring anything that had to do with the Games. When I was 16 she sat me down and explained exactly what would happened should I win one year. That was not a fun discussion. My looks have always made me popular with women. It wasn't until then that I realized how much of a curse they could be."

"And yet you volunteered anyway." I sneer, feeling malicious and vindictive. "Have you thought of what will happen if you win? Or what if you succeed in your mission to protect Annie and she wins? Who will protect her when your gone?"

His eyes flash brightly with anger at my mockery but he manages to gain control and answers, "Honestly I was hoping you and Mags." He must have read the disbelief on my face because he added, "Annie isn't strong. She's kind and compassionate and I know these Games will ruin her if she survives. But then to be forced to-" His jaw clinches and unclintches, "It would destroy her completely."

I feel my heart softening at his plight but I ask, "Why me?"

He smiles slightly, "Because I know if anyone could beat the Capital at their own game it'd be you. I was 9 years old when you won but I still remember that look in your eyes, that fire that endeared you to everyone who saw you. You still have that fire."

"Most days I wonder if I really do or if it's just something people say. A trademark to piece with a persona, a character. I often wonder who I am anymore."

Any hesitation Finnick had shown before about touching me vanished as he placed his large hands on my arms and squeezed lightly yet certainly, "Your Katniss Everdeen from District 12. The girl who put her life on the line for the love of her sister, who risked her life for a boy she barely knew. You are the Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay."

The heat from his hands is comforting, but I'm slowly starting to realize just how close we're standing to one another, and his thumbs have begun to rub lazy circles on my arms.

Clearing my throat I step back awkwardly and say, "It's always nice to meet a fan." Disappointment flicks across his face, but it disappears so quickly I think I must have imagined it. Searching for something to say I ask, "What are you doing up here anyway?"

"My room faces over the front of the building." He shrugs noncommittaly. "I saw you enter in the middle of the night, and was concerned. Then when I saw the elevator going to the roof I figured you could use someone to talk to. Or yell at."

"Thank you Finnick, truly." I express genuinely.

He shrugs once more and smirks. "Despite the animal you had to deal with, you look beautiful in that dress. It's just a shame it had to be wasted on him." He lightly fingers the thin fabric, and shivers run through me that likely have little to do with the coolness of the night air. "We keep bumping into each other with you wearing my favorite color. Are you trying to tell me something Kitten? Because if its what I'm-"

"Goodnight Finnick." I cut him off hurrying towards the elevator. Pushing the button the door automatically opens, turning I catch sight of him watching me, the same un-nameable look in his eyes as the doors close.

The next morning I don't wake up until late. It's nearly noon by the time I drag myself out of bed in search of food.

"You got back late Sweetheart." Haymitch greets. For the first time in awhile I see he isn't nursing a glass.

"I didn't want the third degree after having to deal with Ambrose so I went up to the roof to blow off steam." I explain grabbing a pear from a fruit basket set out.

"Alone?" He questions.

Figuring he already knows the answer I wonder if he expects me to try to lie. But instead I reply, "No. I was with Finnick."

"Damn it why would you do something so reckless?!" He shouts.

"How is it reckless?" I demand, "He poses no danger to me, I'm not a Tribute."

"He was probably trying to make nice to learn about weaknesses." He waves off.

"We didn't talk about Koren, Calluna or the Games." I forcefully assure.

"Then what did you talk about?" He asks. But then a look of horror crosses his face and placing his hands over his ears, cries, "Nevermind! I don't want to know."

Rolling my eyes I scoff, "Haymitch he's 18. Not to mention he's entering the Arena in a few days."

"Exactly." He points out. "He's going to be going up against our Tributes, and even if they form an alliance, eventually they'll have to turn on each other. Our duty is to Koren and Calluna. Let Mags worry about Finnick."

I sit at the table and eat my pear without really tasting it. I was too lost in thought trying to figure out what he was really trying to warn me about when it came to Finnick.

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Reviews always welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed! You guys make my day every time :)

 **Ariana Cala Swan, Sorciere6174, MetallicMedallion,** **caleb's babe, felicityawhite** **: Thank you so much for the praise**

 **Manaliac: Thank you for all your reviews! I can't reveal too much about the Games without giving away Spoilers, but I hope I will do the characters justice and that it will be interesting to read.**

 **Raveny's Beating Heart: I can't promise a posting schedule, my available writing time is very sporadic so I write when I can. But I will post as often as possible.**

 **foreverily: I'm so glad you gave the story a chance. I usually like "older guy, younger girl" as well, but I really wanted to write something that was unique and stand out to many of the other Finnick/Katniss stories there are. I really hope I can live up to your expectations.**

I own nothing

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The black dress Cinna has placed me in hugs my curves like a sheath. The lace that makes up the sleeves and lays over the black satin shifts colors like an ember that's stubornly refusing to come back alight despite the best efforts of someone trying to billow it aflame once more. The skirt ends at my knees in front but just grazes the floor in the back and is made up of thousands of glossy black feathers.

Its the night of the final interviews and the air is thick with nervous excitement. Caesar is currently speaking with Teak, he and Patcholi exude confidence, as they should since they both scored 9's in testing.

Backstage, Drax from 2 looks uncomfortable in his tailored suit and keeps pulling at the ends of the sleeves. Koren had revealed that the other male Tribute had torn the sleeves off all of his training uniforms. His female counterpart Lobo is idly fiddling with the blunted metal studs on her green dress looking extremely bored.

Looking back to my own Tributes I feel concerned watching the pair of them. Calluna's dark blue dress featured a sweetheart neckline, exquisite crystal appliques all aling the bodice and floor-length skirt. The full skirt was characterized by the dainty ruchings and gorgeous appliqued decorations. But despite how lovely she looked, she had already been sick twice and Haymitch had trust a large bowl into her hands with strict instructions to not be sick on her dress.

Koren for his part was possibly even more on edge. He paced back and forth like a caged animal all the while muttering conversations with himself under his breath. In testing Koren had scored a 9 while Calluna had been given an 8.

On stage Caesar as always is making a grand show of getting to know the Tributes. After he finished with District 3, Annie made her way to the stage. Though quiet she was upbeat, kind and engaging. In testing she had scored a 7, to which Haymitch had tried to dissuade including her in an alliance but Koren and Calluna had insisted that Finnick would not enter any alliance without her.

Finnick had scored a 10 in testing and soon after taking the stage, had the audience eating out of his hand. Cat-calls filled the air as he strutted across the platform. He was dressed in a opaque green shirt that was open nearly to his waist with tight beige pants and tall brown boots. For a little while Caesar asked him about growing up in the Academy and being Mentored and raised by Mags, but then he ask,

"Now Finnick, as I'm sure you are aware you are a very attractive young man. And you have developed quite a few female fans here in the Capital, and likely all over Panem." Female cheers ring out loudly in agreement. Then Caesar continues, "And I'm sure many of them would like to know, are you in love with Annie Cresta?"

The moment before he answers seems to stretch on for hours. It would be so easy for him to say yes. For him to lie and say he volunteered so that he could save Annie or die with her. At 18 it be so much easier to portray as true love than the tender beginnings of first love that Peeta and I had performed. People would clamor to sponsor them, the Capital would once more have their star-crossed lovers, and maybe this time they'd both survive.

But for some reason the thought of seeing Finnick and Annie together as a couple, even just to pretend, it caused a hallow ache in my chest. My worries were unfounded though for Finnick merely smiled his most endearing smile and replied, "No, Annie and I are just friends. We've known each other forever though and she's like family."

"So if not Annie is there someone else special in your life?"

Shaking his head, Finnick's smile turns seductive, "No Caesar there isn't. And I'm thankful there isn't, otherwise I might not be able to fully appreciate all the gorgeous women in the Capital I've seen." He winks at one of the cameras, causing more appreciative squeals to fill the building.

The interview lasts a little longer before Caesar bids Finnick farewell and good luck in the Games. After watching the spectacle on the monitor above us backstage I roll my eyes at the playboy attitude Finnick has adopted. He of all people should know the consequences of such a persona.

Turning back to my Tributes I offer them a silent reassuring smile. It seems to help some but then one of the crew members wheels a cart past laden with food items asking if anyone desired anything. Calluna, at the sight and smell of the offerings, became violently sick once more. Letting out a sigh I ask the crew member for a bottle of water before shooing him away before he can make anyone more distressed.

"Here." I say to Calluna, handing her the bottle. "Rinse and spit, then take a drink. Slowly." I instruct.

"Oh my." Effie bemoans seeing the vomit filled bowl on Calluna's lap. She had just returned from doing "reconnaissance" on the other Districts. Apparently District 12 had been seeing bets on being favorites not experienced since Peeta and I had been Reaped.

"Effie do you have any breath mints?" I ask hoping the candy could help provide a slight distraction.

Nodding with understanding she looks through her handbag but comes up empty. Haymitch had left 20 minutes ago to retrieve some poppy milk, a medicine that soothed stomach upsets, but he still hadn't returned.

"Maybe one of the crew will have something." I try to reassure Calluna who now seems to be panicking over smelly breath.

Heading away from our group I ask everyone I cross paths with, but by some twist of fate no oe seems to have any. I'm about to give up and head back empty handed when the powerful scent of spearmint passes under my nose.

Turning I search for the source of the smell and I instantly spot Finnick leaning against a wall flirting with one of the girls from District 8's prep team. She's nearly as short as I am but has bright fuchsia hair and heavy gold make-up.

For a long moment I debate going over and cutting in, but the disgruntled feeling in my stomach urged me forward. So with more aggression then I intended I step between the pair and interrupt,

"Finnick can I talk to you?"

Surprise flicks across his face but it's smoothly replaced by an easy smile. "Sure thing Kitten."

He follows me to a quiet corner a little distance away before I turn and question, "Can I have a breath mint?"

Finnick's face is so incredulous it's nearly comical. He regains his composure after a few seconds though and smirks, "Why Kat, I'm flattered you'd think of -"

"Cut the crap Odair." I snap. "Calluna has been throwing up since we got here. She's already insecure enough without having to face Caesar and the cameras with the smell on her breath. So a simple yes or no will do."

"You couldn't have just ask me back there?" He questioned gesturing to were we had come from. "I was having a very interesting conversation with Helena." I roll my eyes. At seeing this he develops an insufferable smirk. "You weren't jealous were you Kitten?"

I scoff and make to turn away but he grabs my arm and spins me back. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out an old tin box and opens the lid. Inside are small green and white striped candies and a number of pure white sugar cubes.

"Take as many as you need. Would you also like a sugar cube?" He winks placing the sweet on his tongue and slowly sliding it into his mouth. The whole time his eyes never leave mine, they're look intense.

Irritated I snatch two mints and begin to walk away, but then I hear him chuckle under his breath. And something inside of me snaps.

"Is this really actually funny to you?!" I round on him, storming my retraced steps to stand toe to toe with him, glaring into his eyes with my full fury. "24 kids being told to try and kill each other. That's funny? The spectacle before hand, the so called celebrations, what a blast. The vying for Sponsors, to try and get help to kill others." I start to babble. "Not to mention the life after, the money, fame, parties, being pimped out to whoever whenever. You say you don't want it, but you seem to fit right into their ideal of a Victor." I accuse gesturing to his ridiculous outfit.

I can tell I hit a nerve as Finnick's eyes narrow and his fists clench."You of all people should recognize a persona when you see one." He snaps, stepping forward so he's now towering over me. If it weren't for my own anger I probably would have felt very intimidated by the way his body size envelopes mine. "You really think I've had the time or inclination to look at all those preposterous empty headed vultures? I'll need them to like me if I'm to survive long enough to help Annie. And how dare you look down your nose at me. How much of yourself did you bend and twist to get them to like you during your Games? Did you ever really care about Peeta? Or is the loss you feel just a part of your character?" He sneers reaching out and fingering a patch of feathers at my hip. The gesture holds none of the gentleness or comfort he displayed before. This time it's full of condescension and malice.

Enraged I slap him across the face. His head whips to the side but he quickly turns his neck to once again look at me, his eyes boring into mine, daring me to contradict him. I want to curse at him, tell him that I had cared about Peeta. I want to scream that his death weighs on me every day and haunts me every night. But Haymitch's words replay in my head and I take a low blow by hissing, "I hope you live long enough for you to experience even half the pain I have watching people die, having blood on your hands and knowing no amount of time or penance will wash it away." I lift my chin and give my best, haughty Capitalite smirk. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Already feeling guilt for my harsh, thoughtless words I turn and walk away.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Next chapter we get into the Games, so it'll probably take me a little longer to post due to doing research on the survival skills needed for the type of Arena I plan on writing.**

 **Hope everyone is enjoying this, and to those who also endured Blizzard 2016, hope you were able to stay warm and safe**

 **I own nothing**

 **Manaliac** **,** **Gelline** **Eaton** **,** **Kushina** **Nar** **,** **Sorciere174** **:** **Thank** **you so much** **for the reviews** _ **:)**_

* * *

 _I can feel the pounding of my heart thudding in my chest and rushing in my ears. Branches and twigs slap against my face as I run through the undergrowth. Behind me I hear the shouts and calls of The Careers gaining on me. Rushing down a hill blindly, I trip and stumble over an exposed tree root._

 _I fall through time and space to find myself standing in a meadow of flowers, the whites of their petals wrapped tight in large buds. But then the blossoms open and from the centers blood slowly drips to the ground. But as the oozing liquid touches the leaves, they dissolve revealing corpses beneath. I draw back in horror at seeing the mangled bodies of Koren and Calluna staring blindly up at me, their mouths gasping in a constant dying breath. The sickeningly heavy scent of roses chokes me as the scene changes once more._

 _Suddenly I'm back on top of the waterfall and Peeta is in front of me yelling at me to run. But suddenly his face goes blank and a large red stain covers his chest. He falls to the ground and I'm paralyzed, unable to cry out or move to try and catch him. Instead my gaze is locked on Finnick, a large bloody Trident in his hand. His eyes are dark and cold holding no emotion at all. He calmly steps towards me and while every instinct screams at me to run, I instead reach out to him. Finnick moves closer and closer until he is a breath away from me. I can see the flecks of blue in his eyes, can differentiate the gold colored sun-bleached streaksof blond in his bronze hair. And then I feel a blinding pain in my lower stomach as he trusts his weapon into me. I let out a gasping groan as he retracts the Trident and grabs a hold of my arm._

 _Remember who the real enemy is." He whispers against my lips, just before he pushes me over the rushing water to the rocks below_.

"No! Finnick!" I scream jolting awake. I sit up quickly, pulling my knees to my chest as I will my breathing to slow from the short shallow gasps I'm currently taking. No one comes in to check on me so I gratefully assume my outburst hasn't woken anyone. Tugging a hand through my sweat damp hair I heave a sigh.

After my earlier fight with Finnick I had been listless and easily distracted by my heavy guilty concence. I had been able to force my focus through the interview with Caesar, boasting of Koren's use of a war hammer and feats of strength as well as Calluna's quick sure-footedness in knife attacks. I was able to avoid mentions of Peeta, to which I was extremely grateful. I wasn't sure if I would have been able to stomach weeping over our Games after all Finnick had said.

Throwing my covers to the side I creep from my room to the kitchen. Opening one of the cabinets I take a glass down from the shelf and fill it half full with water. Sipping slowly I feel the cool liquid flow the whole way down to my stomach. Hearing someone making their way down the hall I turn and spy Calluna navigating the path to the kitchen as well, the room dimly illuminated by the surrounding city lights.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask leaning against the countertop. She silently shakes her head coming to stand on the other side. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." She replies uncertain. Then, "Yes? I don't know." She sighs shrugging frustratedly.

I wait for a moment before she quietly asks, "Were you afraid? For your Games. They always play your Reaping and game highlights in school but…" She faulters, clearly concerned about asking something too personal.

Shaking my head I take her hand in mine and confess, "I was terrified. I'd never been more afraid in my life but I knew I was protecting my sister, and that's what kept me sane. I had nightmares almost every night I was here. I still have them. From time to time." I add quickly to try and reassure her.

"Does anything help keep them away?"

"Peeta did." I tell her, gently retracting my hand.

"You really loved him didn't you?" She ask, an undertone of longing wonder to the sound.

I'm about to say yes, of course I did but once more Finnick's words echo in my ears. So I reply as truthfully as I can. "To be honest, before our Games I barely knew Peeta. We'd see each other around the District but he was from the Merchant side and I grew up in the Seam. But to him it didn't matter. One time he burnt two loaves of bread, and his mother beat him for his carelessness ordering him to give it to the pigs. Instead he through it to me. I was out in the street, scrounging for food. My family hadn't eaten in days. It wasn't until years later that I figured out he burnt that bread on purpose. He knew even in my weakened state I'd be too proud to accept charity, so he made sure it was unusable to anyone who wasn't desperate. Was I in love with Peeta? No. But I love who he was. His kindness, and gentle spirit. I miss him every day, but I also miss that I didn't get the opportunity to know him better. At least when I'd had the chance."

"If I win will they always bring up Koren?"

"Not unless you kill him in a truly spectacular way. Or if you have some secret romance you have yet to reveal." I respond lifting an inquiring eyebrow.

Shaking her head Calluna blushes. "I don't have feelings for Koren. He's not my type." Quietly she adds, "Guys aren't my type, actually."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in but when they do I let out a confused, 'But the other day…Koren said Finnick-"

Even in the low light I could tell she was blushing as dark as that day, maybe even darker. "It wasn't Finnick I was blushing over. It was Annie. When Finnick tried to show me some tricks, Annie leaned in to give me extra pointers and her hair grazed my neck as well as her breast grazed mine. I almost lost it then and there."

"Oh." I manage. "Ok."

An awkward silence descends as we look at each other. The fact Calluna prefers women to men isn't a big deal to me. It's that she's developed feelings for another Tribute. It was potentially even more dangerous than the feelings I had started to develope for Finnick. Whatever those feelings were, I had yet to divine.

Heaving an exaggerated yawn I suggest Calluna return to bed and try to catch some sleep before the Games tomorrow.

Nodding she turns to go but pauses saying, "No matter what happens, know you did your best. Koren and I wouldn't have stood a chance without you and Haymitch."

Feeling my heart and breath cease I will tears not to fall. After a moment of piecing myself back together I take another deep fortifying breath. I know my nightmare has left me too restless to go to bed, but my options for entertainment are limited. With Koren and Calluna heading to the Arena early tomorrow, I don't want to disturb them by turning on the television. Effie would think it rude if I woke her at this hour, and besides I don't want to burden her with my problems. Haymitch is likely passed out in a drunken stupor and it would take an impromptu bath to wake him. And so I follow my feet mindlessly wherever they would take me.

Entering the elevator I stare at the numbers. I don't have my key-card so I can't enter The Oasis, and I don't feel like going back for it. It's raining so the rooftop is out of the question as well. I briefly contemplate visiting the other floors, hoping some of the other Mentors are up, but I quickly dismiss it. If I show up on the Eve of the Games at this time of night, it'd likely be thought I'm spying, seeking last minute alliances, or want to sell out my Tributes. Making my decision I press the button for the ground floor.

Aimlessly navigating my way through the cavernous building, the slap of my bare feet echoes in the dead quiet. I meander for a time but eventually find myself at the Victor's Museum entrance. Given the fact the building is occupied by many of the figures on display, and the reasoning we're all experienced killers, the space is always open to us. The Capital likely sees it as an opportunity to reminiscence when we feel nostalgic.

At the beginning of the museum there is a large exhibit detailing the Rebellion and the defeat of the Districts, resulting in The Hunger Games. It paints the Capital as a benevolent, forgiving society. It makes my teeth itch.

Moving quickly past I briefly glance at the displays of Victors yesteryear. Each displays the name and District of the Victor, the backdrop depicts the Arena terrain they conquered. Many include the Game uniform worn, some in the same state it was in when the Victor was pulled from the arena.

Finally I stop and take in one of the few exhibits I care about. Mags Flanagan, District 4 the display green jumpsuit worn by the faceless mannequin still holds the rips and tears of combat. Behind the life-size doll a large poster depicts a Stoic looking 16 year old with wildly curly red hair, advertising the upcoming Victory Tour. The Arena depicted shows lush, dense jungle. The automated Tour Guide voice, tripped by my approach, tells of how Mags defeated many of her opponents not by brute strength, but trickery. She used her knowledge of plants to poison them. She gathered the hazardous flora and "hid" them in caches all around the Arena. When the other Tributes came upon them most, in their hunger and greed, ate nearly everything they'd discovered. It wasn't until it was too late that they realized their folly.

Continuing on I pause at Woof, Seeder and Cecelia's exhibits with mild interest. At certain intervals there are larger displays informing of The Quaterquells. Every Victor dreads them. Some years twice as many Tributes are Reaped, in others harsher Arenas are constructed, with more Mutts or environmental challenges. Next year is the third Quaterquell, and the Arena built that these Games were to be held in was being sectioned off so that the true scope and magnitude of the Arena's size would remain a mystery until the following year.

Turning a corner I stop in my tracks realizing I'm not the only visitor at this hour. The figure is turned away from me but I can easily tell by the male's hight and lean yet muscular build it's Finnick. Not wanting to go through another round of deplorable animosity, I make to quietly sneak away. As I turn though I step too close to Johanna's exhibit and the automated narrative starts up.

Finnick whips around his eyes instantly zeroing in on me. Surprise is evident on his face, with a brief flicker of amusement. But then he clearly remembers our earlier discussion and a remote blankness takes over.

"Katniss." He states plainly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Something inside me shrinks hearing him call me by my given name. Ever since we met he's called me Kitten, Kat or some other nickname he's come up with, likely on the spot, that he knows will get under my skin.

Unsure of what to say or how to begin I let out a pleading, "Finn."

I see the resistance in his eyes to giving in and I inwardly sigh knowing he isn't going to make this easy. Apologies weren't something I did often so I'd have to wing it and hope for the best.

"I'm sorry." I say quickly, wanting to get it out there before I lost my nerve. "I should have never said those things about you. They were hurtful and spiteful and I just wanted you to know that."

I turn to leave feeling a turbulence of emotion clawing at my stomach but then he calls, "Glad your conscience is clear. Now if I die tomorrow you can look back and tell yourself how you tried patching the bridge before it got demolished."

Freezing with my back turned to him I will myself to resume walking. I had tried to make amends. If he wanted to be petty that was his decision. But that voice inside was drowned out by the desire to not let this narcissistic son of a bitch have the last word.

"Listen here you Megalomaniac." I spin on my heel, marching up to him and giving him a shove. "I said I was sorry. I don't think you realize but that's a big thing for me." I shove him again. "If you don't believe me that's your problem, but me, I'm done feeling guilty about wishing you dead. I didn't mean it." I push him once more, this time knocking him into the display he'd been viewing before he noticed me.

As he falls though he grabs a hold of my hand pulling me down as well. He quickly wraps his arms around me, holding me tight against him so that I land on top of him, his own body acting as a shield against our hard impact. As I lay there momentarily stunned I try to ignore the closeness we share or the salty musk of his skin. I briefly wonder if the Capital's showers have an ocean scented setting.

Grabbing hold of my suddenly rampant imagination I quickly extract myself from Finnick's arms and scramble back to standing. I glare at him as he continues to lay sprawled in the reckage.

"What the Hell is your problem" I demand glaring down at him.

Smirking he chuckles, "Well at least I got to hold the great Katniss Everdeen once."

I stare slack jawed for a second. "Are you kidding me?!" I sputter. "You wreck a museum exhibit just to be able to… ugh! You're so frustrating Odair."

"Well to be fair, you pushed me. So you wrecked the display. Your display actually." He quips, brushing off his pants as he stands.

Taking in our surroundings for the first time I see he's right. The figure wearing my uniform has been knocked over, and the model of my bow and quiver are slightly ascue where they hang against the wall.

"What were you doing here?" I ask suspicious.

He rubs the back of his neck and smiles, dare I say, nervously. He digs into his pant pocket and pulls out a circle of intricately knotted rope. Handing it to me he says, "I had wanted to give you this and apologize myself. I figured if I tried coming up to your floor you'd slam the door in my face, maybe shoot me with an arrow for good measure. I said some pretty nasty things too and was working up the courage to try and talk to you one more time. To not go into the Arena knowing my last words to you, hurt you like they did."

He gently trails the tips of his fingers down the inside of my forearm. I suppress the delightful shivers that course through me as he takes my small wrist in his large hand. Carefully he slips on the rope, revealing it to be a bracelet. It's plain white but soft on my skin.

"It's a little loose." I tell him quietly, extremely aware of how close we are, and of the feel of his calloused yet gentle hand on my wrist.

Smiling he assured, "It's made of cotton rope so it'll shrink to fit. Old time sailors made these bracelets from ropes of their ships to show off their rope working knot is called a Turkish Head Knot."He tells me trailing a finger over the rope. "Also, they used them to wipe their brow while swabbing the deck at sea." I scrunch my nose playfully and he hastily adds, "But that is only the half of it. These bracelets were believed to bring the wearer good fortune. So, the sailors would handcraft a bracelet to bring back to their sweethearts while in port."

"A bit presumptuous don't you think Finn?" I remark, but it has no bite.

"I like when you call me that Kitten." He tells me, his voice taking on a lower register, his eyes becoming dark and intense. I take a nervous step back, which makes him chuckle. "Relax I mean that I like how you say it, the slight accent. And I don't think it's all that presumptuous. You have saved my life or tried to, then tried to seduce me in your underwear." I let out a scoffing laugh playfully shoving his arm off of where it still rested on mine. He reached out and grabbed my waist instead. "Then you knowingly wore my favorite color, got jealous when I flirted with someone else…"

I place my hands on his chest, leaning back to try and break his hold. Rolling my eyes I play along replying sarcastically, "And here I thought I was being subtle."

"As subtle as a hurricane." He smiles, moving one hand from my hips to play with the end of my braid I had done before going to bed. "Despite what I said, I have had time to look at one woman while here in the Capital. A beautiful, smart, spitfire of a woman. You." He reveals speaking softly, his eyes taking in every inch of my face. "If the only good decent thing I'm able to experience in this whole thing is meeting and spending time with you, it was worth it."

I begin to open my mouth but I have no idea what to say. I don't want this to be goodbye, I don't want to have to watch him be killed. But I feel guilt knowing his survival depends on Calluna and Koren's deaths.

Sensing my inner turmoil Finnick pulls me closer assuring, "You don't have to say anything. Just… if I'm the one to make it out, promise you'll think about us spending more time together." Not trusting my voice I simply nod.

Smiling brightly his mouth slowly descends to mine. I can feel his breath on my face and taste the sweetness of the sugar cube still lingering on his tongue. But just before our lips meet I pull back smirking, "Gives you something to look forward to Odair."

Exasperation fills his eyes momentarily before he lets out a boisterous laugh. "Who knew you were such a minx Kitten."

* * *

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	7. Chapter 7

I own nothing

Finnsgirl, gellineeaton10, Manaliac, RoseAllyWhitPotter17, and Guest: Thanks for the Reviews!

* * *

 _10_

 _The Tributes stand on their pedestals, some looking at their compatiton, but most stare down the Cornucopia..The camera zooms in on Koren who's stationed between the District 5 male and District 8 female_

 _9_

 _Calluna is visibly shaking from where she's crouched ready to run. But if it's from nervousness or the Arena terrain it's unclear._

 _8_

 _Finnick locates Annie from where she stands across the Cornucopia. After that he stares straight ahead, his face void of all emotion._

 _7,6,5,4,3,2..._

 _The buzzer sounds and the 74th Annual Hunger Games have officially begun._

 _Koren and Finnick sprint towards the Cornucopia, their forms becoming a blur of movement among the other Tributes. Annie and Calluna head for the trees, a tactic I had used myself. Drax and Teak arrive first, the both of them grabbing swords. Now armed they start mowing down other Tributes as they try to snatch their own supplies and weapons. Drax first stabs a District 6 Tribute before slashing at another from 10. Patcholi arrives at the Cornucopia next and takes up a pair of long daggers. She cuts the throat of the District 8 female._

 _As Finnick and Koren arrive Koren uses his size to knock Lobo down as she reaches for a spear. Her cry of anger and frustration calls the other Career's attention from where they had run after a fleeing injured Tribute from 5. Using his speed Finnick grabbed two backpacks laden with supplies as well as a large sledge hammer. Taking their pilfered prizes the two of them rushed into the forest._

 _The Bloodbath ends with ten dead Tributes with Districts 5, 10, and 6 having lost both Tributes. As the sun sets in the Arena the cameras zoom out to give the audience their first glimpse of the terrain that would serve as this years challenge_.

* * *

At first all I see is a screen of white. But then as the camera continues to pan I realize it's snow. The Arena has been transformed into a snow covered mountain. At the base there is dense woods, along one side is a seemingly bottomless gaping crag. Further up the mountain many caves and overhangs could provide shelter but the lack of trees made one exposed.

* * *

 _The next day it was revealed that the Career's had killed the remaining District 8 Tribute in the night. He must have discovered matches in the pack he scored and had used it to build a fire, not realizing the Games didn't end after the sun went down. The light had acted as a beacon calling his killers in._

 _Koren and Finnick hadn't been able to reach Annie and Calluna before sunset so the pair of them had built a small shelter from pine branches to huddle in for the night. Early the next morning though they found the girls and shared the supplies they had gained._

 _Over the next ten days more Tributes fell, and not just from killing each other. The female Tribute from 9, unwilling to start a fire or venture far from the cave she hid herself in ate snow to supplement water from the lake at the base of the mountain. The choice caused her stomach to freeze, killing her. Frostbite resulting in gangrene killed the male Tributes from 11 and 7. Hypothermia caught the District 3 Tributes after they fell through the ice while attempting to fish._

 _Koren, Calluna, Annie and Finnick had been doing well of staying out of danger, but now that the numbers were thinning the Careers were actively searching their group out._

 _They were attacked while foraging for food. Due to being unfamiliar with similar conditions Finnick and Annie looked to the District 12 Tributes for survival knowledge. Calluna was showing Finnick how to identify oak trees and gather acorns. A short distance away Koren and Annie were collecting rose hips._

 _Likely thinking the group was too distracted the Careers tried to overpower Koren and Annie first. But Calluna spotted them and shouted a warning. Koren swung the hammer Finnick had given him just missing Drax. Calluna's knife left a large gash in Teak's arm when he got too close._

 _Realizing they held little advantage Patcholi called for them to fall back. But Lobo was out for blood. She chased Annie through the trees all the while shouting all the ways she would kill her. Frantic Annie hid herself in a large hallow log. But Lobo found her and dragged her out by her hair._

 _"You're a disgrace to your District." Lobo sneered shaking Annie's head roughly._

 _"Finnick!" Annie wailed._

 _Seeing the knife Lobo intended to kill her with Annie tried to twist away but all she managed to do was cause herself to stumble, Lobo landing on top of her. Snarling Lobo raised her weapon, but then her own throat was suddenly pierced from behind. Standing over top of her Finnick withdrew his spear. Pushing the dead Tribute off of her, he helped Annie to stand._

 _The girl from District 4 was shaking worse than a leaf in a hailstorm. Her face was covered in Lobo's blood, the red also staining her grey uniform._

 _For two days after Annie didn't speak a single word. Finnick and Calluna tried to engage her in conversation but it was like she could neither hear nor see them. On the third day Annie ask Finnick if they were still going to go to the pier for his birthday. When he tried to explain the pier was swept away last summer during a hurricane Annie started to loudly sing a song about mysterious fathoms bellow the ocean._

 _The next morning Finnick and the others awoke to find Annie missing. For hours they searched, trudging through the snow. Near midday they finally found her standing on the edge of the giant canyon._

 _"Annie?" Finnick called. "What are you doing?"_

 _"Your a killer Finn." Annie said in a far off voice. "I am too. Or they want me to be. Kill or be killed right?"_

 _"You don't have to kill anyone. We'll protect you." Calluna promised, swaying on her feet slightly. It was as if she wasn't sure if she should attempt to approach or stay put._

 _"Don't make promises you can't keep." Annie sing-songed still looking out over the ravine._

 _"We're not." Finnick tried to assure taking a step closer and reaching out a hand._

 _"I won't let them make me. They can't. And you think I'm weak." Annie accused turning to glare at Finnick. "I'll show you I'm not." She turned back to the vista before her._

 _"Annie no!" Finnick screamed rushing to the edge trying to catch her._

 _But it was too late. Annie flung herself out into the open air, her arms spread wide like she was about to take flight. Instead she quickly began to fall, plummeting into the gorge below._

* * *

I stood transfixed eyes glued to the screen. The silence was deafening until the boom of the cannon broke out, causing me to jump. A hand found it's way to my trembling lips as tears began to fall.

* * *

 _In the Arena Finnick falls to his knees and lets out a soul-searing cry of disparagement and sorrow. Behind him, rooted to were they stood Koren and Calluna stared in disbelief. Turning to each other the Dustrict 12 Tributes looked at one another a long moment, then stepping forward as one they placed the tips of their three middle fingers to their lips then raised them high above their heads._

* * *

A sob escapes me seeing this. I'm transported back to that day, saying goodbye to Rue. The weight of all these Games have taken from me over the years comes crashing down on my shoulders causing me to blindly crumble into the chair behind me.

* * *

 _On screen Finnick has managed to pull himself together enough to stand and he mirrors the gesture Koren and Calluna hold. Years ago after my Games I had done an interview with Caesar about life as a new Victor. In reality it had been propaganda to quell stirings of rebellion. During the discussion I had revealed that the hand sign was not one of defiance, but was a gesture meaning thanks,admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love._

 _The next day Koren and Calluna watch Finnick like a pair of hawks as if they're waiting for whatever madness that gripped Annie to suddenly appear in him. When Finnick suggests going after the Careers it seems to them that those fears have come true._

 _The Careers must have sensed some sort of shift because the next few days they laid low, not venturing far from the camp they made half way up the mountain. Because of this The Gamemakers decided it was time to release the Mutts. This year they took the form of bears. Huge, ferocious and bloodthirsty they descended from the highest cave at the mountain's summit._

 _Koren, Calluna and Finnick had tracked the Careers to their camp and were about to attack when the Mutts beat them to it. Snarling two bear creatures began to tear the camp apart. Teak was the first to die. He was sleeping in a tent that was quickly shredded, his screams doing little besides egging the beast on. Drax tried to fight off the other with his sword but the thin piece of metal was little defense. Patcholi, who had been collecting firewood at the time missed the slaughter, but for the time being she was without a weapon as well as an ally._

 _Horrified by the sight before them Finnick and the others try to slip away. But their movements catch one Mutt's eye and the thing roars mightily before charging. Frantic the trio run through the trees, but the snow, which is deeper after a lengthy snowfall the night before, slows their escape. Thinking quickly Calluna hefts herself up into a tree, skillfully climbing out of reach. Finnick does the same but Koren's large bulky frame makes climbing difficult. He tries to pull himself up but the Mutt's giant paw grabs hold of his leg and yanks him down._

* * *

I close my eyes to the bloody sight but the hands I clamp over my ears can't drown out his dying wails or his allies frantic cries.

After the sun sets that night the Tributes lost that day are projected on the screen. Along with Teak, Drax and Koren, the female from seven was killed by a Mutt as well. Highlights show she tried to fight it off with a pair of hand held axes.

"Turn it off." I tell Effie harshly as Caesar's smiling face appears.

With trembling fingers she reaches out and does just that. We sit in stunned, horrified silence for a few moments and yet it feels like hours.

"I don't… I can't do this anymore Effie." I whisper, my voice raspy with emotion. "I can't keep sending these kids to their deaths." I rub my temples, bile rising up in my throat.

"But you must Katniss." She gasps moving to sit directly beside me. "As a Victor you must. It is your duty as it is the Tribute's-"

"The only duty those children have is to live their lives, fully, and for themselves. The don't owe the Capital, me or the Districts anything." I snarl clenching my fists. "And don't give me any Capitalite bullshit, you know as well as I that you feel for these "Tributes". You get to know them, you remember their names. I know you keep a scrapbook with a page for every one that has fallen."

"Katniss, have you been going through my things?!" She tries to sound incensed, that I'm being impolite. She quickly stands as if trying to seem angry but the slight slump of her shoulders reveals her sadness as she paces in front of the couch in the living room of our floor at the Training Center.

Shaking my head I scoff at her trying to hold on to her former Capital ideals, trying to distance herself from the pain and bloodshed.

Just then Haymitch walks in. Or rather stumbles. Alcohol is heavy on his breath as his glazed eyes take in Effie's pacing and my silent fury.

"Finally have one make it to the final four Sweetheart. Congratulations." He slurs before falling face first onto the plush carpeted floor.

* * *

 _The next day in the Arena Finnick and Calluna don't talk much. The tension between them goes unspoken for most of the morning. That is until Finnick turns to Calluna and declares,_

 _"If it comes down to the two of us I want you to kill me._

 _Shocked Calluna sputters, "Wh-what?"_

 _Continuing on he reasons, "You have a whole big family waiting for you. Me…half of my family I've lost in this Arena." Seeing his ally's confused look he clarifies, "My parents and brother died in a boating accident. Right after I reached the Capital after volunteering."_

* * *

My eyes widen in shock. I know from experience that coincidental accidents like that are never what they appear. I've been threatened with enough to be able to recognize them. Watching Finnick extract a promise from Calluna to do what she must should the time come, my heart constricts for the pain he must feel, the hopelessness. In that moment I want nothing more than to hold him, kiss his often smart, irritating mouth and shield him from every fear.

* * *

 _For two more days not much happens in the Arena. Patcholi, realizing she is outnumbered and relatively defenseless builds a wall of ice and snow at the entrance of a cave she's sheltering in. Silica from 11 was setting traps around the base of the trees where she has spent her time since first entering the Arena._

 _She was laying thin sticks over a pit trap when Calluna and Finnick came upon her. Startled, Silica attacked with her curved sycle blade. Though it was two against one the 11 Tribute had skill with her weapon. Slashing at Calluna's stomach, she quickly spun and ducked under Finnick's spear. In her haste to retreat from the frey back to the safety of her makeshidt treetop dwelling, Silica forgot about her newest trap and stumbled onto the fragile covering._

 _With a loud snap she fell into the hole becoming impaled on the sharpened sticks and rocks at the bottom. The sight is gruesome but she seems to die quickly._

 _As the cannon sounds Finnick relaxes his rigid stance, loosening his grip on his spear. Turning to Calluna he tries to joke, "Well only one more left. How about we go cut down some Patcholi."_

 _But his forced mirth is short lived for as he takes a good look at his ally he realizes the snow around her feet is colored bright red._

 _"Calluna!" He shouts. Rushing over to her he catches her slight form before she falls to the ground._

 _"Looks like I won't have to keep that promise." Calluna tried to smile as a drop of blood collected at the corner of her mouth._

 _"Come on it's not that bad." Finnick tried to assure placing a hand on her stomach. The falsehood of his words was apparent when red started to seep through his fingers._

 _"You're a terrible liar Finn." She grimaces. "Just swear you'll win, then try and live."_

 _Tears well up in his green eyes as he pledges, "I swear."_

 _Calluna dies in his arms with a shadow of a smile on her lips._

 _The Gamemakers, likely sensing the showdown about to take place, decide that the playing field must be wiped clean. And they achieve that by causing an avalanche. Patcholi's ice wall protected her as the thousands of pounds of snow rumbled down the mountain. Finnick wasn't so lucky. He, in his grief and rage had been stalking up the mountain ignoring the distant thundering sound of the descending drifts. At the last moment he recognized the danger and was able to wedge himself under a large boulder that formed a small overhang, avoiding certain death._

 _After the snow had settled Patcholi emerged from her snow cave, slightly worse for wear but alive. Soon after the Game's first Sponsor Gift arrived, a pair of long knives, double edged and ment for one purpose. To help Patcholi win._

* * *

Seeing Finnick's chances dwindle I know I must do something. So, donning my father's hunting jacket over a grey A-line dress and knee high black leather boots I head out into the bustling Capital streets.

* * *

 _Finnick is sitting by the lake weaving a net from dried when he receives his gift. Mags and I called in every single favor, and every debt owed to us in order to pay for it. But the look of renewed hope, the spark of determination that re-lights in his eyes as he grasps the Trident make it worth it._

 _"Patcholi! Patcholi!" Finnick yells, his voice rough as it echoes off the mountain. "Patcholi!"_

 _"Enough! I'm here. What are you trying to do, cause another avalanche?" She barks at him appearing through the trees._

 _Finnick doesn't answer, he merely tightens his grip on the Trident and bends his knees, readying for his attack._

 _"Let's get this over with then." Patcholi nods before extending her knives at him._

 _The District 1 Tribute attacks first swinging out her right arm. Finnick responds by sweeping his own weapon in that direction easily deflecting the attack. She slashes again this time at his middle and is able to draw blood from a small shallow wound._

 _Throwing his net Finnick is able to disable Patcholi's left arm as it gets tangled around her. Enraged her attacks become more wild though no less deadly. They exchange blow after blow both drawing blood._

 _Eventually though Patcholi begins to tire, her movements made awkward from being caught in the net. Seeing this Finnick makes his move, slamming the shaft of his Trident into her knees then kicking her in the stomach he sends her to the ground._

 _Lying breathless in the snow Patcholi looks to her knife, over two yards away from her to where it landed after she lost her grip on the way down. The other is tangled uselessly in her hand. Looking up she mutters, "Congratulations. Give me an honorable death."_

 _Finnick looks down at her, his mouth turned down grimly but otherwise his face is void of emotion. "I hold no joy in this. I feel no victory."_

 _He then brings the Trident down on the base of her neck. She lets out a low gurgling groan then falls silent. Finnick has won the 74th Hunger Games._

* * *

Looking around the room I see Glimmer take Gloss' hand and give a slight squeeze. Woof who sits next to him pats his shoulder before rising and striding over to Mags who sits next to me. As the crowd of other Victors offering congratulations grows, I give Mags' arm a gentle pat before excusing myself. We share a meaningful look before I move on.

Across the Oasis, where we Victors always gathered together to watch the final days of the Games on a huge screen brought in especially for the finale, I catch sight of my intended target hunched over an empty high ball glass.

Haymitch looks up at my approach, taking in my determined stance. "Sweetheart." He sighs, "You look like I need a drink."

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Read and Review!

Sorry this took so long. Life/ muse issues got in the way. Plus this chapter while exciting to write was depressing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Manaliac, RoseAllyWhitPotter17, and Guest: Thank you for the Reviews!**

I own nothing

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The sound of beeping and whorls of machines was both a comfort and annoyance. The comfort came from knowing every beep was a confirmation of Finnick's heartbeat and every whorl was a intake of breath. The annoyance came from the continued silence that permeated the rest of the room.

Finnick lay in the hospital bed, tubes, monitors and sensors taped, glued and inserted all over. When he had been pulled from the Arena the Peacekeepers rushed him to the hospital, as was standard procedure. The doctors diagnosed him with acute exhaustion, and dehydration as well as the early stages of hypothermia and frostbite on the tips of his fingers from working his nets. Not to mention the countless bruises and injuries dealt out during the Games. Knowing his recovery depended mostly on rest and time the staff had sedated him. That was over a week ago.

From where I sit in the large, surprisingly comfortable chair next to the bed I stare at Finnick, memorizing every detail as I should have before he entered the Arena. I catalogued the number of golden freckles along his nose and cheeks, only truly visible if you looked closely. I memorized the slight upturn at the corners of his lips and how even unconscious, he appeared to be enjoying a small chuckle at something only known to him.

I reluctantly tear my eyes away and take a break from my staring to reread the letter in my hands.

After the end of the Games I requested an audience with President Snow. It was approved and the next day I stood before our leader, his office reeking of roses and blood. Knowing that soon Finnick would be sold much like I was I ask to be the first to have the "pleasure" of his companionship. Snow seemed surprised, knowing how much I hated the practice as well as my hatred of him for enforcing it. Not that he cared so long as I did what I was told. But then I shocked him even more by declaring I wished to have him exclusively to myself.

At first he was reluctant, knowing full well the amount of money gained from selling Finnick was astronomical. But I countered that I had grown attached and desired him for myself. I also argued that the Capital was growing tired of my spinsterhood and a new romance with such a handsome and favored Victor could generate not only a lot of money but good publicity regarding the Games themselves, which had been sorely lacking for years. Snow had assured me he would think upon the matter.

And now here in my hands laid his reply. Officially it said I was being fined for being spotted outside the District 12 fence, a crime punishable by death, but due to my status as a Victor coupled with all the "good works" I was committed to throughout Panem I was granted a onetime leniency. The price of the fine was 14 million. It then went on to thank me for the 5 million I had pledged to various Capital charities, to be paid annually. The letter concluded with a plea to be more mindful of the laws, for no one was above them not even someone of such distinction as myself. At the bottom it was marked with a post script thanking me for my support shown to President Snow shown during the last election over his competition.

Of course to the trained eye the message was much more chilling. I was to pay the money up front for Finnick's freedom. Then I was to pay more every year of our "relationship". And if I were to step out of line I would likely be caught up in some scandalous affair with someone Snow desired to ruin publicly as well./pThe monetary cost was of little concern to me. Due to my Victor's money plus "gifts" from "suitors" as well as my mother's continued smart and gifted handling of my funds, I had amassed a large fortune. No, what made my insides churn with sickening dread was explaining Finnick to my family. My mother, due to the amount of gems, bill stacks and expensive items I passed into her hands to sell or invest likely had an idea of how I really spent my time in the Capital. But Prim, oh God if Prim ever found out I'd die inside from the disappointment and disgust I'd likely see in her eyes. Then again, who was to know if Finnick would even go along with this whole plan. Maybe his supposed feelings for me had changed. He might wake up hating me, thinking I'm no better than a Mutt for living under Snow's thumb all these years. Everyone comes out of the Arena different from who they had been, but no one came out the same as the others.

Haymitch drank to blur the vision of holding his fellow Tribute as she died. Johanna came out bitter and jagged, while Gloss emerged bold and outgoing but it masked the hatred of himself for what he had done to win. Me, Icame out completely and utterly shattered. It was only through kindness and compassion shown by others, even as I tried to push them away, that I was slowly and painfully put back together. Even to this day it feels like some pieces are missing, too small to be replaced and therefore never truly whole.

* * *

The next day the doctors decided it was time to bring Finnick out of sedation, the Capital needed to meet their Victor after all. I sat next to his bedside watching as his eyes began to flutter. I squeezed Mags' hands and released the breath I didn't know I was holding. Mags touched my arm and motioned me forward.

Releasing her hand I gingerly sat down on the bed and touched his arm. "Finnick?" I whispered loudly.

"Kitten?" He asked, his eyes slowly focusing on me. "You've finally got me in bed. Not how I imagined it but so long as your here, I guess beggars can't be choosers."

I let out a laugh that catches in my throat, unable to believe he can joke after everything that's happened. Because of this it comes out sounding like a rather loud scoff bordering on a indigent snort.

Hearing this his smirk falls and he questions, "What's wrong? I've still got all my fingers and toes right? Fuck I didn't mess up my face too bad did I?"

This time I do genuinely laugh, the sound causing him to grin. Remembering Mags was in the room I swat his arm for cursing and immediately regret the action. But he's still fuzzy from the sedatives and doesn't seem to register the contact as he beams at Mags who sits down on the other side of the bed. She reaches out and brushes the hair off his forehead. Feeling like an intruder I silently slip out the door.

* * *

The next day is the Victor's interview with Caesar. Finnick's team dresses him in a dark blue button down shirt and tight black pants. The shirt is once more unbuttoned nearly to his stomach and the pants extenuate every inch of muscle definition in his legs. Seeing this I'm reminded of a turkey being trussed up and displayed for sale.

Though we haven't spoken since he woke up I received a message from Finnick asking me to be there for his interview. Seeing it as a sign he may go along with my plans I agree, deciding to explain my offer after.

As the questions begin Caesar asks how Finnick has been doing since existing from the Arena.

"Well to be honest Caesar," He chuckles, "I've spent most of the time unconscious. The doctors just woke me up yesterday. You wouldn't be able to tell under all this make-up but I got pretty banged up."

He then explains all the injuries and health concerns the doctors diagnosed. Then he adds, "I still can't feel much in my fingertips. They said it could take time to get it back."

After some more questions about his health Caesar brings up the Game highlights. While disturbing to watch things run smoothly until they play Annie's death. Finnick is visibly breathing heavily, his hands restlessly clinching and unclenching in his lap.

Caesar questions if Finnick feels responsible for her death and if he feels like he failed to protect her.

"Of course I feel responsible. I will miss Annie every day for the rest of my life. But in a way I feel like she ended up protecting me instead. She knew I was ready to kill for her, die for her. That I wasn't going to make it out. So she sacrificed herself for me. She gave her life, and in doing so gave me back mine." He explained tears slipping from his eyes.

Caesar seemed satisfied by the emotional display so he moved on. "Now Finnick, before the Games you expressed an interest in the women of the Capital. I'm sure many have sent you get well cards and such. Is there anyone who's caught your eye yet?"

Wiping the wetness from his face quickly yet suavely Finnick dons his trademark smirk. "As a matter of fact Caesar, I feel I need to come clean about those remarks. They were untrue, at least partly. You see there's only one woman I've had my eyes on, and while she's been in the Capital, she wasn't born here. She's from the Districts. I only said those things to get her to notice me, to maybe make her jealous."

Caesar chuckled a bit at his youthful antics before leaning in, as if they were two close friends discussing which girls they had crushes on. "Did it work?"

Leaning in as well Finnick grins wider as he pretends to whisper, "I think it did. She was at my bedside when I woke up."

I'm so shocked at his reveal that I don't register Caesar asking who it was at Finnick's bedside.

His reply of "Katniss Evergreen" obviously shocks his host into stunned silence so it's up to Finnick call for me, the crew ushering me from my spot in a far corner backstage to a chair brought forth and placed next to him. I sit down in a daze not noticing Finnick has grasp my hand in his until he places a firm but gentle kiss on my knuckles.

Caesar recovers from his muteness and manages to smile broadly as he welcomes, "Katniss! It's so good to see you."

"You as well Caesar." I manage, my smile bright to hide my nervousness.

"This is truly unexpected. But wonderful news! The Golden Boy and the Capital Darling." He beams. "But Katniss, when last we spoke about there being someone in your life, you denied having any attachment."

Hoping to appease him I reply, "At the time there wasn't. Honestly Finnick just kinda snuck up on me."

I see Caesar is both interested and confused, but before he can ask another question Finnick cuts in, "It wasn't so much sneaking on my part as much as full on chase." He chuckled. "I'd seen Katniss every year on T.V. since she won, and I just really wanted to meet her. I mean she's smart not to mention beautiful, and deadly as hell. I gotta admit I was a little intimidated."

"We actually met after Koren and Calluna decided to form an alliance with Annie and I. Katniss wanted to make sure it was genuine and not some ploy of the Careers to back stab the other Districts. We got to talking and I discovered she's even more amazing than I ever thought so I decided to pursue her, suavely of course." He grinned roguishly. "But my hints weren't working so I went for drastic measures."

"Oh they were working." I rolled my eyes playing along. "But I wasn't interested in a young, arrogant would-be Victor. It wasn't until later that I saw the kind compassionate man underneath."

"Weren't you afraid of loosing him in the Arena?" Caesar questioned, his eyebrow raised.

Swallowing thickly I pray this is the last time I have to use Peeta like this. "I was terrified. Every injury, every danger tore at my heart. But the thing that terrified me most was Finnick dying not knowing how much I cared. Peeta knew I loved him, but if I never got to tell Finnick that I would have been haunted by the rest of my life. So when Finnick won I spent every day by his side till he woke up." I squeezed his hand smiling and could see him look to me quickly in surprise, silently asking if it was true. But it was quickly replaced by one of resigned joy.

Continuing I allow a single tear to fall saying, "I know Peeta would want me to be happy. He wouldn't want me spending the rest of my life wishing things were different."

The interview doesn't last much longer after that. Caesar asks if I'll be joining Finnick on his Victory Tour to which he replies that while we hadn't truly discussed it, he'd like me to show him around 12 and in turn show me around 4, so long as it didn't interfere with my own duties of course.

After we're released from the prep teams Finnick and I make our way back to District 4's floor of the Training Center. I've only ever been on this floor once, back during my first year Mentoring. My Tributes for that year had both been killed in the Bloodbath and Haymitch had been no comfort for my guilt. Mags had found me in the Training Gym, shaking and numb as I shot arrows into a target, each one an embarrassing miss. She had brought me to this floor and held me as I broke, screaming and crying.

The rooms are eerily quiet along with much of the rest of the building. The walls of this floor are a medium bluish grey, like the sky as a storm rolls in. The furniture is also more laid back than the sleek elegance of 12's floor. We sit down on the large sofa and I realize that Finnick and I have been holding hands the entire time. He seems to have no plans on releasing me though because he places our joined hands on his knee and starts rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand.

"Is is it true?" He asks softly, looking into my eyes, "Did you sit with me every day?"

A little embarrassed I simply nod. He smiles, a real one. One that reached his eyes and makes the corners crinkle attractively. "Just couldn't stay away could you Kitten?"

I huff and try to pull my hand away but he tightens his grip and places his other hand on top. "Haymitch told me about your plan. Or rather, ask I discourage you from your plan. Katniss, you took a huge risk for me. I'm grateful, I am, but I won't put you and your family in danger."

"My family has been in danger since I volunteered." I assure him. "I can take care of them."

"But who takes care of you?" He asks softly, his eyes boring into mine with concern.

I'm about to snap I can take care of myself but I never get a chance to because Finnick is pressing his lips to mine. His lips are still rough and chapped from the Arena but it somehow makes this more intimate, more real. I kiss him back after my surprise wears off, my free hand tangling in his hair pulling him closer. He groans against my lips, pressing them more firmly together as the kiss deepens, his tongue soon seeking entrance. I oblige and shift so that I'm now kneeling above his lap. Our hands release and I grasp onto his hair harder, tugging slightly. This seems to egg him on for the next instant, he's clutching at my hips firmly, but not enough to bruise.

I grab a handful of his shirt for balance, but must have brushed against one of his many injuries for his mouth suddenly tears away from mine, his body tensing as he let out a low painful moan.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry." I apologize freezing, not wanting to hurt him further with sudden movements.

After talking a deep breath he tries to sooth, "It's ok. We both got a little carried away. But I gotta say Kitten," He pauses, his grin becoming wolfish, "the wait was definitely worth it."

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 **I know! I know it's short but I promise the next will be longer and include the Victory tour and the Reaping for the Quelle**  
 **Reviews always welcome along with suggestions for names of Victor Tributes**


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